Song for the Life
by Siancore
Summary: A few (mainly Richonne) musings based on lyrics of songs. I find inspiration everywhere and presently, song lyrics are top of my list.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Had this idea from something that **lanie-love09** said in a review for one of my other stories. She mentioned that she couldn't see Rick being unfaithful, that he was such a good guy, I am inclined to agree but wanted to see if I could develop a story around Rick and his notions of fidelity. I also loved what she said about guilt being a wasted emotion. It really got me thinking and I came up with this. Please leave a review if you read this, people's thoughts really are an inspiration to me. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1: On the Other Hand

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have the rights to Randy Travis' lyrics

_On one hand I count the reasons that I could stay with you; and hold you close to me all night long._

_So many lovers' games, I'd love to play with you; on that hand there's no reason why it's wrong. _

_But on the other hand…_

Rick Grimes struggled slightly while trying to keep his balance as he stepped, one foot after the other, into his jeans. His half naked form and pale skin was illuminated by the weak light that, for the most part, filled the small unadorned room. Michonne watched him quietly from where she was sprawled out on the bed, very much naked herself, with just a sheet strategically placed to protect her modesty; a somewhat pointless exercise considering Rick had already seen, felt and tasted it all before. She thought that he always looked awkward after they had sex. He was fine before, during and immediately after, uttering her name coupled with swear words and fighting to catch his breath. It was in the moments of intimate silence that followed that he was aware of the proximity of their still, warm bodies and the palpable beating of their hearts. It was in these moments when the look of guilt washed over Rick. When, for just the briefest interval, he felt completely comfortable and right, holding Michonne so close to him that he forgot how conflicted he actually was. That's when he would remember; he would remember that he was already spoken for; that someone else bore his children and carried his last name. The guilty expression and awkward dressing would soon follow, as did the apologies and the solemn declarations that this would be the last time that they would come together and that their meeting like this could not continue.

Michonne would always silently nod and tell him that she understood why they could not be together, that she understood it had to come to an end. If her life experience had taught her anything, it was that fairy tales were not real and no matter how many times your mama and daddy called you a princess, you did not always get what you wanted. Yes. She wanted Rick Grimes. She wanted more of him than he was offering; more than his calloused hands exploring every inch of her firm body. More than the deliciousness of his taut skin under her tongue. More than her name escaping from his throat as he moaned so deeply. More than his hot breath against her neck as he pushed himself deep inside her over and over again. Michonne wanted to be able to say that he was hers and that she was his, out in the light of day; from behind closed doors.

He would try to hide his guilt-laden expression from her, but it was to no avail. She saw it, and it hurt her every time because she knew that some of that guilt was for her; he felt so utterly terrible each time he told her that they were through; he felt so bad because he was the one who had sought her out in the start in an effort to garner comfort from her. He felt guilt over starting something with her, knowing very well that he still felt attachment and duty to his wife. Mostly, he felt guilty for hurting her. The way that she pretended to be fine with him abandoning her; the sadness and disappointment in her eyes. He felt guilty for inflicting that type of pain on her; for causing her such grief.

Maybe this time he really meant it. Maybe he would not find his way back into her arms when he felt crushed by the all-encompassing weight of his responsibilities. When he felt so alone even though he was surrounded by those who adored and cherished him. She understood how lonely he really was, she too felt the same; it was part of what brought them together, the loneliness they each felt. Those were the times when he would go to her, but that was not the complete story, no; he went to Michonne because, whether he could admit it or not, whether she realized it or not, he was drawn to her. He was attracted to her. He lusted after her, he _longed_ for her. He felt the worry and dread fall away when he held her close; like it was normal, like it was right. _But on the other hand…_

_…__There's a golden band; to remind me of someone who would not understand._

_On one hand I could stay and be your loving man; but the reason I must go is on the other hand._

Rick Grimes, avoiding Michonne's gaze, uttered one last weak apology and left. After what seemed like an eternity of roaming in the shadows of the mysterious early morning, Rick came to rest on the cold floor of a darkened corridor. Shrunken and tired, he let his head fall back to the wall, drew his knees upwards and closed his eyes to stop the stinging of the tears that had formed. _Why do I treat her like this? _He thought of Michonne. _She doesn't deserve it. _He felt so torn inside. She was just so loyal and beautiful. She made him feel at ease. She let him be the man that he needed to be in this world, without judgement. Of course he would turn to her to console him. Of course she would open herself to him. He knew what she really meant to him, the words that were whispered in his most secret moments; in solitude and anguish. He _loves _Michonne, but he dare not even say it. This is what pains him. Their connection is real; their connection is undeniable…And yet, there is his loyalty to his wife who, for all of her downfalls and inconsistencies, was still his wife.

She rolled on to her back, staring at nothing in particular; used her hands to rub both eyes and tried to ignore the lump that was forming in her throat. As the tears began to well and her heart felt like it was being torn from inside her chest, she made a silent promise to herself; as difficult as it was going to be for Michonne, she could no longer allow Rick to come to her for solace. He would have to deal with his guilt and his loneliness on his own henceforth; for her heart could not endure any longer.

After a moment, Michonne made a move to find her clothing that Rick had, in his impatience to feel her naked form, almost ripped from her body. She dressed quietly and sat back down on her bed. Her mind swimming with thoughts of inadequacy and self-loathing. _Why do I let him treat me like this?_ She thought, her face growing hot as she felt overcome by resentment. She knew he still contained within him somewhere affections for his wife, that he still carried a sense of obligation toward her. It mattered not what had transpired between Rick and Lori, Michonne knew she that would forever be the mother of his children; his wife. The fact that she _loves _him, Michonne loves _him_, that counts for nothing. With that, it was decided; Michonne would leave this place. She did not think she could live without Rick, but alas, she did not think she could look upon him every day and be forced to hold back; hold back a knowing smile, a gentle caress or to whisper his name. _No. _It was best if she just left. Hell is other people and pain is loving someone who does not love you back. _Yes. _She would go. At least she still had some good memories of Rick.

After she regained her composure, Michonne, through still blurred vision, scribbled some excuse or another on a scrap of paper, grabbed what belongings she could carry and slipped away silently into the night.

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A/N: _On the Other Hand_ by Randy Travis – please give it a listen if possible to see how it resonates with the story.

Thanks for reading. If I decide to update this story, the next chapter will be based on/inspired by lyrics to another song. Also, I'm having funny thoughts because I just ordered a ticket to see Lil' Jon when he comes to Australia, imagine the type of Richonne fic I could write if his lyrics inspired me. Lots of muh'phuckas and bitches I can only assume LOL Love it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Snuff

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead nor do I own the rights to Corey Taylor's lyrics.

A/N: This follows on from On the Other Hand.

Thank you all for the reviews, I am so glad the story was well received. I had to laugh at **HeartoSteel**'s suggestion of Lil' Jon's "Lovers and Friends" - got stuck in my head straight away and the best line is "…now you all grown up like Rudy Huxtable" because Keshia Knight Pulliam is lovely and always makes me smile.

Thanks for the song suggestions; I will get around to listening to them all!

This next chapter is a small glimpse into Rick's feelings upon learning his love has left him.

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_Bury all your secrets in my skin._

_Come away with innocence and leave me with my sin._

_The air around me still feels like a cage._

_Love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again._

Rick was angry; he felt the white hot rage stirring deep inside, bleeding to the surface. He was angry at Michonne; he understood why she did what he had done, but to put her own life at risk? For what? Because of _him_? Some fraction of his anger manifested because he had thought she would not go; would not abandon him. He had some silly notion that she would always be there for him. Maybe that was the problem; he assumed she would make herself available for as long as he sought her out. Now,_ now_ he realized he had resorted to blaming _her_. Because she wanted more, but did not ever give voice to her true desire for him; to him. She loves him. Why did she not ever tell him? Why would she leave it scribbled on a scrap of paper and discard it, like she discarded her feelings for him. Left the crumpled note behind, like she had left him behind. Why would she write the words down for him to read, but never let the words fall from her mouth for him to hear? A mouth he would never taste again, he thought sadly. That might have changed everything, if he knew just how she felt. But now, all he felt was ire. If he was man enough to admit it, Rick was enraged at himself as well. For being stupid. For being the _cause_ of her leaving. For everything. He too did not voice his truest feelings for her. He too buried his secrets, and all that did was hurt them both, and resigned them to be trapped in a hell that no one could see.

_So if you love me let me go. Or run away before I know._

_My heart is just too dark to care. I can't destroy what isn't there._

_Deliver me into my fate; if I'm alone I cannot hate._

She was gone; she _is gone_. Gone, like a whispered, tormented plea falling upon deaf ears. Gone, like an invisible kiss pressed lightly against brackish, ravenous skin. Gone, much like the last glimmer of sunshine before it is devoured by the darkness of the night. Rick's anger will not let him focus; arrange his thoughts. It's all just pain. The throbbing in his head; the aching in his soul. The pain. _She is gone._

Regardless of his anger, in spite of himself, Rick did not despise Michonne. He loved her too much; indefinitely. He just was not strong enough for her. Rick was not strong enough to let go of his wife, and surrender himself to Michonne, wholly and completely. He was weak. She made him weak. _The flesh is weak, but love is strong._

Yet, now, as Rick walked briskly toward Michonne's quarters, he was not strong enough for what he was certain he would encounter; nothing, an empty space, a void. He would be alone with all of his guilt and his anguish, to contemplate her actions and _his_ actions and realize… All along he had let his loyalty to his wife and his sense of guilt drive a wedge between he and Michonne. Maybe it was that simple; maybe her leaving was for the best. Why should Rick Grimes be allowed to attain happiness? After all…

_I don't deserve to have you... _

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A/N: _Snuff _by Slipknot (ah, the pure anguish of heavy metal love songs…Hahaha)

Oh and you can check out both songs here:

_On the Other Hand __ watch?v=7s9q4An6rMA_

_Snuff __ watch?v=NUC6sAXza_k_

I think they really encapsulate the mood of the chapters. More to come!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Victim of the Game

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have to rights to any songs by Garth Brooks.

A/N: This follows on from _Snuff_. This is a small glimpse into Michonne's thoughts and feelings.

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_Well it took a little time, but I guess you finally learned_

_That promises get broken, and bridges do get burned._

_You've been sifting through the ashes, just tryin' to find a flame_

_Holding on to nothin', you're a victim of the game._

Michonne had always liked early mornings; she felt a gentle calmness in the solitude that they brought. But she did not feel calm this morning. She felt heavy and at a loss. Her eyes were sore from crying, and her feet weighed her down, she was in need of encouragement to get them to move; to carry her away from this place. Away from the heartache. Away from Rick. _Rick_. Just the thought of him made her want to run, to steal away faster, yet at the same time thinking of him compelled her to turn around. To return to him. As weak as he had made her feel, she still wanted him. But she knew she had to be strong. He did not want her enough to give himself over completely.

She had already paid her penance, she had already atoned; she would not suffer any longer while trying to ease Rick's mind. She could not tolerate being pushed aside time after time. These thoughts, these realizations; they fuelled her. They drove her forward. Creating a great distance between her and the people whom she had come to care for. Become close with. But their proximity only served to make her feel a false sense of security and made her forget; the ones who claim to love us always find a way to hurt us the most.

_You were standin' way too close to see it all fall apart. _

_And there were things you couldn't hear 'cause you were listenin' with your heart._

_But you can't say I didn't warn you, now there's no one else to blame_

_There's no one quite as blind, as a victim of the game_

She had hoped her leaving would serve to put Rick at ease as well. That her not being around would not cause him grief; would not leave him feeling conflicted. That the look of guilt would disappear from his weary face; that he could be happy. That he could return to that moment in his life when he was _happy_. Michonne had to concede that for everything that had happened between the two of them, Rick was still a good man. He is a good man. She did not aim to hurt him, yet she knew, deep within her soul, that this would hurt him. She acknowledged, despite her own distress, she was not the only person who would be marred by all of this; she was not the only one whose heart would ache.

_…__it don't matter who you are_

_It treats everyone the same_

_All you need's a heart_

_To be a victim of the game_

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A/N: Gosh, these lyrics are depressing! I think I need a hug after this. More to come…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Worth Fighting For

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have the rights to any lyrics by Rob Halford

A/N: This follows on from _Victim of the Game._

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_You said I could never find a way to ease your mind_

_That where I'd go you'd wind up in the dust_

_I tried so hard to have you reach another side of me_

_Instead you went to nowhere and forgot…_

"You made her go away! Dad! How could you? We love her, she loves us and you made her go away! I'll never forgive you for this, ever!"

Carl's words rang in Rick's ears as he sat in Michonne's cell on her bed that was now stripped bare. He held the note that she had left for him to find, staring at what she had written. The note that Carl had found in her plain room when he went looking for her as he did each morning. The note that Carl had thrown at his father in front of their entire group as he shouldered his way past Rick, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. She had left the multi-coloured cat for him; a bittersweet reminder for her of the young boy she had come to love and cherish as if he were her own. The cat that he took to his own cell as he cried out of anguish for Michonne, now lost to him. She almost changed her mind when she thought of Rick's children. She almost unpacked her meagre belongings, but the wrenching of her heart forced her to be resolute in her decision. The children would be safe with Rick, she would ache for them, miss them terribly; but she was happy in knowing they were safe. He is a strong protector, a good father; that is one of the reasons why she loves him.

She almost went to see Rick, to tell him to his face that she was to leave; but she did not trust herself, her emotions. He would look at her in that sad way, his blue eyes peering into her soul. He would say something to make her stay, he would promise that he would keep his distance, that he would not complicate things for her. He might say that he would work on his guilt and his issues and that he did love her. He might say he wanted her. He would ask what she wanted him to tell Carl. He would plead with her and she would stay. They would end up in each other's embrace again, and be right back where they had begun.

He had to check her room to see if she had actually gone, and she had. He felt as empty as her cold cell was. That voice from deep inside him that screamed out her name met a resounding echo from his hollowness. He had wounded her so profusely that she could not be around him. That she would rather face the horrors of the world instead of be in his presence a moment longer. Rick could barely focus his thoughts; he had been so foolish. _I should have chosen her._ I love her; _I love her._ But she was gone. He did not fight to keep her; he had let her flee. He had caused this problem. For all of his integrity and loyalty and other words that people seldom used anymore, he was not true to Michonne. He was too busy trying to be true to the memory of Lori. But his wife was long dead; long gone. She is gone, and still causing Rick heartache. And now…Michonne; this living and breathing woman, _she_ was lost to him.

_Rick, _

_I'm leaving, don't look for me. I can't stay here and face you every day. It's easier to be away from you. I tried so hard to ease your mind. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. I can't compete with the memory of a ghost. All I'm guilty of is loving you. Please tell Carl I love him, and kiss Judith for me._

_Goodbye._

_Michonne._

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_…__So I wander on asking where you might have gone._

_From what I knew before; some things are worth fighting for…_

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A/N: _Worth Fighting For _by (the mighty) Judas Priest 

This song is one of my favourites. I'm thinking of using all of the lyrics to prompt the next chapter because it tells a story within itself. Yep, definitely need a hug after all of this angst…I know it's all a bit moody, so thanks to those who have read thus far.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Worth Fighting For Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have the rights to any lyrics by Rob Halford

A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone; I wanted to respond to everyone because you have no idea how helpful and inspiring what the readers say is for me, so I might do it on the next chapter as I'm keen to get this one done. One little phrase and I could have an idea for a new fic (which has happened), so please, keep the reviews coming. I was a little worried that this fic would be a little too airy fairy, but it seems okay. I never really thought that Rick would be unfaithful, but I did think he would feel extreme guilt and still have a sense of loyalty to Lori (even if it is to her memory). When someone is as damaged as our favourite couple of the apocalypse, it makes the sad times sadder, just as it makes the good times better. They just need to get over themselves and focus on some good times for eff's sake!

Also, dear readers, sorry for the wait in between; I really do have to be in some shitty kind of mood to get into the headspace to write this one. Ha! I know, I shouldn't take it out on Richonne, but I love a bit of angst…And it makes for an interesting story! Sorry they've been short instalments, but the emotions are pretty overwhelming and do my head in lol Anyways, I'm shutting up now and _finally _updating…

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_Did I see your figure in the haze?_

Two days had passed; two long days that Rick had spent licking his wounds. He did not eat, he barely slept and his son was not speaking to him. Carl was right, he had driven Michonne away. For all of his good intentions and his morals, he still ended up being hurt nonetheless, his son was also hurt, the group was now significantly weaker; and she was gone. She could be anywhere by now; _she_ could be hurt. She had left, she had changed and Rick had remained the same; he was still pained, he was still conflicted and he was still alone.

Rick had been quiet for the past two days. Everyone had heard what his son had said to him, the words still fresh in his mind, causing him to flinch as if he had been struck a blow when he thought of them: _We love her, she loves us and you made her go away! _The aching in his temple had been perpetual from the moment he had learned of Michonne's departure; much like the wrenching of his heart. Constant, persistent and painful. Night had finally fallen once more and Rick was glad of it. It meant the darkness would hide his dishevelled countenance and consequently deter the questioning looks that he was receiving from the others. Judith was peacefully sleeping; her quiet little sounds were the only things that brought Rick's heart and mind any semblance of comfort presently.

He was weighed down and tired and wanted to sleep, but he found that when he closed his eyes, he saw her figure. Through the haze of his weariness; through the haze of his sadness and anger he saw her. It was different from the manner in which his wife had haunted him because there was still something he could do about the situation. Michonne might have been gone, but there was a significant chance that she was still alive. She was strong and determined and that's only a small part of what he loved about her; her willingness to live. After everything she had been through, after all of the horrors she had faced, she still fought so hard to live. Rick realized then that he must have wounded her deeply to have her risk what she had fought so hard to retain, her very life, just to be away from him; to be out of his presence.

Rick closed his eyes tightly, wishing that the agony that he was subject to would desist; hoping silently that he would not see Michonne in his dreams that night. That she would not come and continue torturing him; reminding him that it was his fault, reminding him that she had left him, reminding him that she had disappeared out of his reach into the haze.

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_I am driven by a thirst to quench myself of love; the sun beats on me for the price I've paid_

The last droplet of water slid coolly down Michonne's throat and drove away the hoarse dryness that bothered her at present. That was the last of the water she had taken, and she had already run out of food. She used her hand to shield her eyes from the relentless light that lorded over midday. She had been away from the prison, from _Rick, _for almost two days. Pushing herself forward on swollen, blistered feet; knowingly punishing herself for loving him. If she could somehow slake the love she had for him, her journey would be easier and she would move faster; but somehow, a heavy heart can weigh you down just as much as hunger, thirst and the need to sleep.

Michonne had found an abandoned house in a long ago abandoned neighbourhood of Rick's old hometown. She hoped that she could find sanctuary, something to eat and a place to rest her head; to her relief, it was uninhabited by neither the living nor the dead. The onetime home looked like a hundred others she had seen since the world ended; full of echoes of the people that had lived there. An eerie sadness pervaded each corner of each room, reminding the new inhabitant or visitor of the lives that were lost. Family photographs and keepsakes hanging about listlessly, like the ghosts and memories of those who had long since perished. She had found some meagre food stored high in one of the kitchen cupboards. After gathering it, she returned to the living room, leaned her back to a wall and allowed her body to slide down to the floor. She did not eat what she had collected, instead, she stared off at nothing in particular and tried to fight back the tears. Michonne sat this way until the sun had disappeared and the moon and stars sparsely illuminated what would otherwise be a blackened night sky.

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_…__Some things are worth fighting for._

The sun had slowly ascended and life at the prison began to stir. Rick had taken his daughter to Hershel's daughter and returned to his quarters; not feeling much like facing the day and other people yet, just as it had been the day before.

"You're just gonna mope around here another day then?" Asked Hershel, as he entered the cell that Rick had shared with Judith.

He had been completely aware that something was amiss with Rick and that MIchonne's abrupt departure had a different impact on him than it did with the others in the group. Carl was still furious with his father, and Rick had been withdrawn and sullen. Hershel knew what regret in a man looked like. He had spent many years being regretful for his own actions; regretful for hurting those he loved. Hershel knew what a man who was fighting inner demons looked like; he saw that battle inside Rick and the worry it caused etched across the younger man's face. He also knew what a man with a broken heart resembled. One only had to look into Rick's sad blue eyes to know it was true.

Rick, seated on his bed, looked to his friend and squinted his eyes a little.

"What're ya talkin' about?" He replied with a question of his own; pretending with all of his tenacity that he did not know what the older man was speaking of.

"Look, Rick, I don't claim to know what happened between you and Michonne…"

"Hershel, don't." Rick interrupted, as he let his head drop and averted his gaze. "Please, just don't. I already told Daryl not to mention her name…"

"Alright, alright. I won't say her name," offered Hershel, slightly taken aback that it had gone that far. "But I will say this, no matter how hard it is to win some battles and no matter how many times ya feel like you just can't win. When ya feel that you've been hurt, _wounded_, more than you can take, just remember that some wounds are worth it in the end. They show how hard you've had to fight for what ya believe in, for what ya love; and I know this to be true, some battles are worth it."

Hershel paused a moment, noticing that Rick was now looking at him; seemingly taking in what it was that he was trying to say. He sighed loudly, narrowed his gaze and stared straight at the younger man before adding:

"And Rick, believe me when I tell you this; some things are worth fightin' for."

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A/N: More to come!


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